June IS, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
4 71 
which the trail took us. We had enjoyed the day very 
much, and now had a good supply of sage hens salted 
down for future use. Next day, the 7th, all hands 
sheathed their rifles and united their energies in dragging 
the heavily-loaded wagon up the mountain gorge. We 
had six good horses harnessed to it and several times had 
to use a rope and small tackle blocks. We camped that 
night near the top. Next morning, the 8th, we renewed 
our labors and about noon climbed out on top of the range. 
We immediately crossed the summit and started on the 
descent, camping that night at the foot of the mountain 
after two days of unheard-of exertion. It seemed to us 
that we were performing as great a feat as Napoleon in 
his passage of the Alps. We had to cut a great many 
trees and logs out of the trail and often to use the pick and 
shovel to prepare a road for the wagon. In making the 
descent we cut a fir tree about 12in. at the butt and 40ft. 
long and tied it to the wagon, then locked both rear 
wheels, and by using the rope and easing the load down 
we finally reached the bottom. We used long poles or 
hand spikes at the side of the wagon when on steep side 
hills, and by thrusting these levers in the wheels and 
bearing down on the ends of lever kept the load from 
turning over. 
Ed Trafton is an experienced mountaineer, and with 
his help and guidance we at last reached Jackson's Hole. 
A. B. Wingfield. 
FLY-FISHING 
On the North Shore of Lake Superior. 
[Continued from page U56.] 
Another dawn came; the sun radiantly rose and beauti- 
fied the gray of the far east, and then sent her beams 
like golden spears touching the tops of the green trees in 
her spreading grandeur, and rousing great flashes of silver 
and gold that flecked the little wavelets in the bay. The 
forest swayed to the morning breeze, and the little flower- 
lets that edged our quarters sparkled with the dewy mist 
that gave them life and tints rivaling the rainbow's hues. 
A few hungry gulls whose pinions were as white as the 
driven snow swept o'er the water in search of food, while 
an entire colony of cawing crows passed o'erhead, doubt- 
less seeking some well-known rendezvous. 
It was not only a gorgeous morning for rejoicing, but 
one that made the angler's heart throb with wild delight. 
Ned said while we were taking our breakfast that we had 
better try our old grounds in the morning and in the 
afternoon cross the bay and see what sport we could find 
around the big moss-grown and lichened rocks that run 
so sharply into the lake. Their bases of crumbling frag- 
ments form innumerable covers for that fish which is far 
lovelier to the angler, when in pursuit of it, than Hebe as 
she waited on the gods, or Venus as she rose in bare 
beauty from the caressing waves. Strong language, rhap- 
sodical probably, but when one has that ever beautiful fish 
of the rainbow tints in mind, he heeds not where or how 
his prosaic pen wanders when comparisons are to be 
made. It is loveliness vs. loveliness, and he therefore 
crowns fact instead of fancy, that's all. 
The first part of the programme which we bad mapped 
out that morning did not realize very generously, for we 
only caught two of the red and gold spotted tribe, but 
they were rare specimens that ran a little over 31bs. each. 
We had both lost fish during the angle, and heavy ones at 
that. One that I had about ready for the executioner 
slipped away on an unexpected dash, while Ned was un- 
fortunate enough to lose two, one I thought from too 
hasty a battle and the other I presume from slight impal- 
ing, as he slipped off without exacting a single rhythm 
from the reel or taking a single yard of line. The rod 
simply went into a crescent and then away went the 
painted dandy to tell his confreres of his romance, with 
a humming-bird's wing on a silken thread. 
The afternoon's outing panned out more generous, for 
we killed double the amount, but in a high wind that soon 
drove us back to our quarters. In this foray Ned had 
exceedingly bad luck. Being in the bow of the boat, the 
stiff breeze militated against him and worked to my de- 
cided advantage. In commencing, we first came to a 
small rock over which the rising waves were wildly 
sweeping. Kenosh, knowing it to be a fine lurking place 
for trout, warned him to keep a sharp lookout, for he was 
positive that he would there have a response. He accord- 
ingly kept wide awake, and just as we came abreast of it 
Ned's flies sailed out and lightly dropped just behind the 
rock, and then a magnificent trout with a panther-like 
bound sought the lures; but either he or the sportsman 
was at fault, for no unity ensued. 
Ned, somewhat disappointed, recovered his flies for an- 
other delivery; but they fell short of the rock, owing to 
the high wind which was fast driving us along. He then 
hurriedly lengthened his line a bit, and once more tried, 
and again failed; for he was further off than ever. As I 
was now within casting distance of the rock, and accord- 
ing to the rules we had established was next in turn, I of 
course dropped my flies, received a rise and hung the 
greedy trout, and after some delightful play he was duly 
netted and boated. 
Ned scolded furiously at the boatmen for their failure 
to hold back the boat, but Kenosh, somewhat irritated, 
1 said: 
"Nobody hold boat there. You must take 'em on first 
jump." 
"Fiddlesticks! Couldn't you back water?" retorted Ned. 
"No back water there; but didn't we get the fish?" 
"I didn't get him." 
"I did. What matters it, Ned?" 
"Nothing, only you had the delight of the capture, that's 
all; and that's everything." 
"Then take them on the first response, as Kenosh ad- 
vises," I significantly remarked, and then the half-breed 
who was facing me, smiled all over, pleased that he had 
some one to champion his cause. 
The big rocks being just ahead, we push along for them, 
and here Ned was sure of trout, for ne had the first 
chance and availed himself of it by letting his flies fall 
over a big, shaded chasm. Again he had a bold response, 
and again missed. Quick as a wink he recovered his flies 
t and away they whiz through the wind for the same 
spot from which sprang the food-seeking trout. But 
alas for his mathematical accuracy and the strong breeze! 
he missed the place by fully oft-, owing in part to the 
drifting of the boat, which he had not taken into consid- 
eration. Again he tries, and again the distance between 
him and the rising trout is increased. He realizes the sit- 
uation with anything but pleasurable feelings, but when 
he sees my flies dropping correctly over the ehasm and a 
ponderous trout grabbing my stretcher fly, a parmachenee- 
belle, and sailing away with it in bis mouth, he is again 
after the boatmen in a very emphatic manner. 
"That's the second trout you have lost for me," he says, 
as be turns to Kenosh. 
"You lose him, not me." 
"Yes, I lose him, but why?" 
" 'Cause you don't hook 'em." 
Ned, who always appreciated a humorous retort, 
couldn't help but smile at this, and very good-naturedly 
said: "You are right, Kenosh." 
"I have the trout, what more do you want?" I put in, 
by way of adding a little spice to the conversation. 
At this Ned gave me an earnest and searching look, but 
being at a loss how to effectively reply said nothing, and 
then very earnestly took up his casting with a determina- 
tion, I thought, to jerk the scarlet head off the next trout 
that came to investigate his flies. After a few casts he 
ordered Kenosh to put the boat closer to the wave-washed 
rock. The dusky boatman obeyed with alacrity, for he 
was now fearful of again rousing the hostility of Ned, 
who was in no good humor over his repeated failures to 
hang a fontinalis. The boat neared the rock as per order, 
but being on the windward side was soon so close to it 
that Kenosh took up an oar and firmly braced it against 
the flinty wall to prevent the pounding of the boat. But 
a moment or two elapsed before the strain upon the oar 
was so great that it snapped in two, and then a half-breed 
joined the ranks of the angry. Kenosh then went for his 
son Jo, who was handling the oars in the front row-locks 
in such a vehement manner that the young half-breed 
also went into the company of the incensed. There I 
was, the only placid man in the boat, and no wonder, for 
fortune had kindly smiled upon me in awarding me all 
the spoils. 
Ned was almost as sore over the broken oar as Kenosh, 
for he had contemplated breaking camp in the morning, 
and this mishap would doubtless prevent it. KenoBh, 
when he saw that Ned was so distressed over the accident, 
spoke up and said he would make good the damage that 
evening if he had to work until midnight. 
"Then let us leave here at once." said Ned. 
"No, no, want more fish," said Kenosh. 
"All right, then," responded Ned, and so we again 
started in to make lamentation among the finny tribe. 
Ned finally hung one of the dappled family and a 
goodly one too, and had his little world of sport in bring- 
ing it to net. This prize drove away all his corroding 
emotions and he was once more the whole-souled sports- 
man and made merry music for us all. I caught one 
more by the rock, a small one, and then word was given 
for our return. It required a tack or two to make camp, 
but as the distance was only about two miles it mattered 
little. 
The sails being thrown to the breeze, we started off 
with a speed that made the water tumble from the bow 
in snowy sheets of foam, and 
"Like one vast sapphire flashing light, 
The sea rode on majestically." 
"Hello," said Kenosh, with some surprise, "a fog is just 
coming down on us from the mountains." 
"Take your bearings," said Ned, but there being no 
compass aboard, the bearings had to be of the mental cal- 
iber. 
"I'll bring her into camp all right^' confidently replied 
the helmsman. 
Down came the fog and along we went, trusting entire- 
ly to the half-breed to safely make port. After plunging 
ahead for about twenty minutes the boat was put on the 
tack, and after the "leg" was made about she went again, 
but where no one knew — not even our dusky pilot, though 
he professed supreme knowledge about our course. 
Jo said we were near the bottom of the bay, Ned said 
ditto, and I said naught. After another long stretch the 
fog lifted and there we were, way down in the bottom of 
the bay and fully a mile further from home. Kenosh 
was irritated at the situation, and offered no excuse for 
the divergence. The son, however, spoke up and said: 
"Father no good in fog." 
"Yes, good for nothing," admittingly said Kenosh. 
He then ordered the sails down and said they would 
row home, as it would take too much tacking and too 
much time for the trip. He was anxious, he further said, 
to select before dark a suitable piece of timber for a new 
oar. They both pulled up very earnestly, and as soon as 
we reached a lee shore we made camp in short time. 
Kenosh no sooner touched land than he snatched up an 
axe and hurried off to the green woods, and in about fif- 
teen minutes returned with the necessary wood in its 
crude form. After working awhile on it he found it 
worthless and had to- return to the forest for a better 
piece. This time he came back with a sunny smile, de- 
claring that he had procured just the thing for the oar. 
And so it developed, for the wood was a magnificent 
piece of white cedar, free from all knots and sap and per- 
fectly straight grained. It took him till 11 o'clock 
that night to finish the blade and it was as fine a piece of 
work as if it had come from a turner's lathe. These 
half-breeds are very cunning with their round-bladed 
knives, turning out work in the most skillful manner. 
Jo said he kept the old man at his work by supplying 
him with very generous cups of strong tea and substan- 
tial tidbits from the larder. He had a hard fight, though, 
with an army of bloodthirsty mosquitoes and was "lad 
when the job was done. 
An unusually early breakfast was had the next morn- 
ing, and by 4 o'clock we were off, leaving our piscatorial 
neighbors in deep slumber. We were destined for Ras- 
saines, some twenty miles distant, and with anything like 
a fair wind would make it long before noon. 
The morn was quite chilly and did not look at all 
promising. Dull, gray clouds were floating o'erhead and 
the atmosphere was seriously inclined to coax out a 
dense fog. Kenosh stated that his barometrical bones 
did not ache, and was positive there would be no rain. 
Thus assured, as we thought, against a downpour, we 
went gayly rippling along as if o'er seas of glittering gold, 
with the tiny waves caressingly lapping the boat as if 
they were chatting of all the pleasant things they had 
experienced during the lovely moonlight of the previous 
night, of the fish that had darted hither and thither be- 
tween the waves and of the more delicate denizens of 
the deep that had peeped from the pink doors of their 
transparent habitations and looked upon the shimmer of 
their ever moving element as we look on the vast dome 
of our sky when canopied with silken fleeces. 
We thus delightfully ran along a very sinuous and low- 
terraced shore, studded with spruce, fir and balsam, and 
a background of towering mountains just barely visible, 
over which the clouds were sailing in long ranges; now 
floating along their sides, severing their summits from 
base, now settling down and capping their peaks, and 
anon dropping still lower till all the beauty of foliage was 
suddenly and completely hidden. These grand vistas of 
mountain ranges were soon obliterated when the prow of 
our little craft was directly headed for Bachewauaung 
Lighthouse. 
Ahead we now look for other picturesque landscapes, 
for the impressive beauty of the lovely bay will soon 
break on our vision, with its deeply wooded islands, its 
lovely shorelands, its rippling streams, and its broad 
sunny stretches so charmingly enriched with ferns and 
flowers and shrubbery, that give to the rugged hills an 
aspect of beauty unsurpassed, The place to a lover of 
nature is truly suggestive of winsome fairies and frolic- 
some days, for here 
"The velvet grass seems carpet meet 
For the light fairies' lively feet ; 
Yon tufted knoll, with daisies strewn, 
Might make proud Oberon a throne; 
While hidden in the thicket nigh, 
Puck should brood o'er his frolic sly; 
And where profuse the wood-vetch clings, 
Bound ash and elm in verdant rings, 
Its pale and azure-penciled flower 
Should canopy Titania's bower." 
< The grand central island which almost divides the en- 
tire bay is now passed, and but three miles lie between us 
and the turret-like lighthouse. The dull and somber 
clouds are slowly departing and the hues of the rose and 
the daffodil growing quite frequent, while a glitter of gold 
is beautifying the edges of the parting clouds. The breeze 
is gradually freshening, the waves perceptibly growing, 
and tinkling music sweetly dropping from the dipping 
prow. Our hearts are therefore measurably lighter and 
joyous laughter prevails on all sides, while Ned, who has 
not warbled an aria since he left the "Soo," is in tuneful 
melody. 
The sails began to tighten and bright silver curls around 
the boat as she plunges bravely over the little white 
plumes that are just appearing, and dancing where they 
can mount the arching waves. The lighthouse is also 
looming up like a ponderous pillar of marbled whiteness, 
and tree and shrub and rock are plainly outlined. 
"Shall we stop at the lighthouse?" inquires the pilot. 
"Too rough, I guess, to land there," replies Ned. 
"Not a bit. There is a small plank landing in front." 
"Hello, there's Mary waving her apron." 
"That settles it; we will land and endeavor to secure 
some wild strawberries and maybe a toothsome bear steak, 
as it is about time for bruin to be coming down to that 
point." 
In much less than half an hour we were in front of the 
lighthouse, and the keeper was down at the shore to help 
us land. Here we had quite a chat, and then I hurried 
up the bank to the house to ascertain if I could secure 
some rarity for fche larder. Nothing could I obtain but 
two gallons of maple syrup, for which I parted with a 
bright silver dollar. Mary and her mother kept me talk- 
ing so long that Ned, being impatient to leave, fearful 
the wind might either drop or increase to a gale, sent 
Jo to hurry me to a conclusion. He came tramping 
in and picking up the jug, which I informed him had to 
be taken aboard, walked off with it on the double quick, 
intimating by his actions that I ought also to hustle along. 
I caught on without delay, and as I was leaving Mary fol- 
lowed me to the door and there gave me a few pounds of 
maple sugar, and in addition a bright smile. She also in- 
sisted that we stop on our return, for they have so little 
company in these lone regions that they are always 
pleased to receive visitors from the "Soo" or in fact else- 
where, that they may hear the news from a civilized 
community. Our stopping all depended upon the weath- 
er. If stormy when passing we would~ assuredly put in, 
but if fair it would be onward, as a favorable breeze 
must be taken advantage of on this uncertain and treach- 
erpus lake. 
Again we are off with the sails thrown to a stiff breeze, 
and as the boat gains headway handkerchiefs fluttered 
from both sea and land. 
Four miles more and we reach Pancake Bay, and as the 
crossing of it is just six miles we make it with the pre- 
vailing wind in about an hour. A four-mile stretch still 
awaits us before we reach our destination, but tbis is 
along such a grand piece of rocky coast line that the sail 
becomes one of infinite delight. 
Former years this was one of the finest stretches of 
trouting waters on the lake, but the half-breeds and the 
Indians with their gill nets and other pot-hunting tactics 
soon depleted it, and it is now a great rarity here to catch 
the red-hooded beauty. 
Just before we reached Raissaines, Ned insisted that I 
put my rod together and try for a trout. I complied with 
his request, and soon my flies were whizzing out on ail 
sides for the beauty in red and gold. For fully half a 
mile I kept casting, and was about to abandon all hope of 
securing a rise, when fortune favored me with a response 
which brought me a small trout of about lib. This gave 
me some assurance, but not another trout rose, no matter 
how carefully delivered or how attractive the flies, for I 
think I changed my deceits about every ten minutes, 
being under the impression that those in use were not the 
ones to attract. The fish were evidently not there, for 
the dusky pot-hunters had completely cleaned out the 
entire coast along the route we were then going. 
The bold and rugged shore here jpid about Raissaines 
is a grand triumph of nature in reproducing a landscape 
of impressive grandeur which is deserving some special 
mention. The flinty rocks that are beaten by the count- 
less storms are worn into strange shapps and stained by a 
thousand dyes in every possible variety of arrangement, 
far beyond the power of words to describe, and all this 
profusion is repeated mile after mile, keeping up interest 
by some new prospect of sweeping curve or abrupt or 
fantastic form. No doubt persons who have seen this 
rugged and frowning north shore under a dull sky sup- 
pose that all descriptions of its picturesque grandeur are 
either deliberately manufactured for the sake of fine 
writing or illusions of fancy, proofs that 
"We receive what we give, 
And in our life alone does nature live." 
[TO BE CONTINUED.] 
Alex. Starbuck, 
